


Where The Fishes Sleep

by OrianDCate



Series: I'll Take All Of Your Burdens [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Bermuda Triangle, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Deal with a Devil, Devils, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, The Brethren Court (Pirates of the Caribbean), The Silent Mary (Pirates of the Caribbean)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrianDCate/pseuds/OrianDCate
Summary: Backstory to "Dead Men Tell No Tales"; Prequel to my story "Over The Horizon". Captain Salazar roams the seas, the time of the last two sons of Poseidon is up, and their First Mates Jack Teague and Hector Barbossa must make deals that will haunt them for eternity.
Series: I'll Take All Of Your Burdens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758907
Kudos: 3





	Where The Fishes Sleep

I own nothing. Least of all this.

* * *

_“Tell all our enemies ‘We’ll see you in Hell’,_

_We’re gonna walk ‘em off the plank into the wishing well,_

_Down to Davy Jones’ Locker where the fishes sleep,_

_Won’t be praying for you, so don’t be praying,_

_Don’t be praying for me.”_

_\- The Plank_

1)WHERE THE FISHES SLEEP

Captain Bartholomew, Pirate Lord of the Brethren Court, and Scribe of the Pirate Code slowly laid the letter down and leaned back in his chair. “…Salazar will not parlay.”

The only other man who held the same titles as Bartholomew, one Captain Morgan, sighed. “As expected. By the Code only the Pirate King could demand that right, and the only man that ever held that position or could have persuaded Salazar to listen is long gone.”

Bartholomew’s held up one finger. “You know perfectly well why that was, Morgan. You were at the First Court, same as I. Hook may have left us, but he did so for a perfectly good reason.”

Morgan’s fist thumped on the table. “But by thunder he could have done more before he left! You know as well as I do that Hook could have talked Blackbeard into at least helping! But no; that disgrace to our lineage refuses to sail south of the Carolinas, and has left us to the tender mercies of the Spanish.”

Bartholomew pinched his nose. “This conversation will lead us nowhere we haven’t already been, Morgan. You know as well as I the only guaranteed way to get Blackbeard here was if Hook gave him the order as Pirate King. And the continued concealment of the last two Pieces of Eight is not something we can jeopardize. Even for this.”

“So what? Are we to do nothing? We have no King; with the fate of Bones and the crew of the Walrus still unknown, we are at least one Lord short.”

“Yes; I had forgotten about Bones. I pity the man; I know I would not care to have a man like Silver on my tail. But as to your question: no, we shall not ‘do nothing’. We shall convene the Third Brethren Court, and we shall do our best to convince them that this is a fight worth fighting.”

“How? The _Silent Mary_ is more than a match for any single one Lord’s vessel, and no one that has attained that rank is the sort to trust another pirate to have his back.”

“Simple. We show to them that we have an advantage in this fight, all of us in equal measure.”

“And where, pray tell, are we to acquire such an advantage?”

Bartholomew took a while to respond. “…If a Son of Triton was able to bargain for certain boons from an unnamed individual, would not two Sons of Poseidon be more successful in their endeavors?”

Morgan stared. “You would truly risk that? To have your fate in the hands of…”

Bartholomew cut him off. “Shh! These walls have ears, man! Word absolutely cannot get out that we are even contemplating something of this sort; too many questions, too few safe answers. But yes; I would willingly place my life in Her hands if it would see pirates on the seas for at least a little longer yet.”

“…Bold move, brother. Even for me. So…when do we sail?”

* * *

First Mate Jack Teague stood at the helm.

This was it; this was the reason he had signed on with Captain Bartholomew. Sure, he had started from the bottom as Cabin Boy, but he had worked hard to get where he was. Which was here, at the helm of a ship that he could pretend for a few precious seconds was his own.

His father had been right for once; living at Shipwreck Cove was nice, but it was no place to learn the sort of thing Jack was meant for. And meant for it he was. Even the Captain had said so.

Speaking of the Captain, Jack had been awfully worried about him lately. As First Mate he was privy to some of the more sensitive matters that the rest of the crew had no business knowing. Such as Captain Salazar and his infamous ship the _Silent Mary._ Even now, unless Jack missed his mark, the Captain and his partner-in-fortune, Captain Morgan, were belowdecks searching for a solution to the rapidly growing problem. Jack couldn’t deny he was thrilled at the prospect of a proper Brethren Court, but any chance of that seemed unlikely. The song had yet to be sung, and so none was beholden to the call. And by the time the song’s first verse had sounded, the fate of the Caribbean would be long sealed. Salazar knew the game he was playing, Jack had to give him that.

A thump from just below Jack’s line of sight signaled the emergence of the two conspirators. He came to attention and gave the call. “Captain on deck!”

The crew immediately jerked to a halt, awaiting orders.

“At ease, men. Back to your duties.” Came the baritone of Captain Bartholomew. It was a voice Jack had come to respect and admire in the last few years. Even more than that of his father.

“Mate Teague. I believe you are acquainted with Captain Morgan?”

Jack gave a slight bow. “Always a pleasure, Captain.”

Morgan grinned. “Not this time, I‘m afraid boy. I expect by the end of this you’ll be cursing both our names.”

Jack’s look of confusion was completely genuine. “Sir?”

Bartholomew steeped forward. “You’ll see soon enough. Now, Mister Teague. I believe we have a pressing need to travel up-river.”

Jack froze. Every time they had traveled ‘up-river’, things hadn’t turned out for the best. Oh sure, they might have gotten what they wanted from the witch, but in the end it always cost more than what they thought they had paid. “…By a need, sir, I don’t suppose you happen to mean a passing fancy?”

“No my boy, I’m afraid that it’s quite the urgent and unyielding need. Set our course, Mister Teague. We have a rendezvous beyond the horizon.”

Jack swallowed. “…Sir, yes sir.”

He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Jack gave his only company in the rowboat a sidelong glance. He was flattered, of course, that even on a matter as important as this one, his Captain trusted him enough to let him be part of the negotiations. But what perturbed him was that apparently Captain Morgan felt the same way about _his_ First Mate. A young man by the name of Hector Barbossa, who was about to have his first encounter with the witch known as Tia Dalma.

This was not going to end well.

Jack rather suspected he was going to have to rescue his companion from Tia Dalma’s double-speak and entendre at some point. And all that would do was put him even more firmly in the witch’s sights. She had been trying to make sport of him since the very first time they meant, and even though Jack had a slight inclination he might enjoy said sport, now was most definitely not the time.

As their boat slid in behind that of the captains’, Jack spoke to his fellow mate for the first time since they began rowing. “Listen, I don’t know what sort of things you may or may not have encountered in your various excursions, but I can guarantee you this: all of that pales in comparison to the person you are about to meet. Humor Her, insult Her, deal with Her any way you wish, except one: under no circumstances, ignore Her. You won’t like the results.”

Barbossa swallowed. “…I shall keep it in mind.”

“Good. Now help me tie off this boat; we don’t want to be late.”

* * *

Jack stooped and stepped into the hut.

No different from the last time. Nor the time before that, nor the time before that. Sometimes he wondered if the occupation of witch not only came with built-in immortality, but immunity to age for your possessions as well.

Not that Jack had that many possessions worth preserving.

Captain Morgan and Bartholomew were already seated with the witch. Jack knew better than to interrupt the negotiations, and the longer he could avoid Her attention, the faster said parlay could be concluded. He took up a position on the right side of the door, and nodded for Barbossa to do the same. His heart briefly stopped as Barbossa seemed to be considering ignoring his directions and barging straight in, but it started again when the other man gave a shrug and leaned against the left side wall.

Jack turned his full attention to the whispers coming from the table, just in time to catch the last half of a sentence from Morgan.

“…nothing else to offer! You know as well as we that the Trident’s owner is long gone; and the only other who could conceivably have the right to wield it is in your debt. What would you have to gain from refusing?”

Tia Dalma’s voice wafted through the air. “As much as you know, Captain Morgan, dere still is quite a lot you do not. Tis neither da time nor da place for da Trident to make its reappearance; and if it were to happen now, the fate of all the world would be much worse dan it is. That is not to say I have refused your gift; I shall merely help you in a different way than you had anticipated.”

Bartholomew seemed to sink into himself. “…And how do you propose to do that, then.”

Tia Dalma looked up…and directly into Jack’s eyes.

She smiled. “Dat, I cannot tell to you directly. It is with your young men that I must deal, captains. Dere is a touch of…destiny…about the both of them. I shall tell them what they need to know, and in turn, they shall tell you the same.”

“Now see here!”

Bartholomew grabbed Morgan’s shoulder and shoved him back down in his seat. “We understand, my lady. Shall we leave you too it, then?”

The witch considered it, then shook her head. “I shall deal with them one at a time. Young Jack first, and then the other.”

The captains stood, and made their way to the door. Barbossa made to follow them outside. He gave one glance back into the dimly lit interior, and then mouthed two words to Jack: “Good luck”. And then he was gone as well, leaving Jack along with…Her.

She smiled once more. “So, Jack Teague. Tell me; what is it you want most in this world?”

Slowly, Jack sat in the chair recently vacated by his captain. “…I suppose, that is to say, ma’am, I should like to make a name for myself. My own name, you see. No one else’s.”

Dalma’s eyes glittered. “Ah. You wish to leave da name of your father behind; but you do not wish to take on the one of your Captain.”

Jack opened his mouth to say that wasn’t what he meant at all, but the witch’s finger on his lips stopped him from going any farther.

“Tis alright, Jack. Captain Bartholomew is one of a rare breed left on da seas in dese days: a good man.”

Jack didn’t miss how She didn’t mention Captain Morgan.

Dalma continued. “But I can see how, even with de best of intentions, he can remain blind to that which lies under his nose. You have thought yourself his son for quite some time; but you believe he does not think of you as his son.”

Jack hung his head.

“And you wish to respect his wishes. So, dat leaves you with but one option: to take on a new name. And just by happenstance, a name is exactly what I am in need of. You have heard de tales of what comes of giving your name to da Fey, young Jack. Tis the same story with witches, just a different version. We are not so greedy as to take a name at an inopportune moment; I shall leave you with it long enough to do what you need with it. And when the time is right, I shall give you a new one. One that will belong to me. That is de deal I offer you, Jack Teague: the loss of your last name, in return for the means to defeat the threat all pirates now face. Do we have an accord?”

Jack thought. And thought. Then thought some more.

Finally, he took the outstretched hand. “We have an accord.”

The look in the witch’s eyes made him believe he was going to regret it.

* * *

Bartholomew stood, arms crossed, on the dock. “Well?”

Jack held up the object Tia Dalma had given him. “It’s a Compass that doesn’t point North.”

Morgan groaned, and turned away. Bartholomew merely gave him a look that clearly meant ‘go on’.

“…What it does point to, is the thing you want most in this World. And for you, that would be a way to defeat Salazar.”

“How?”

Jack swallowed. “There is…a Place. One that can be found in only a few specific ways, of which the Compass is one. She called it…the Devil’s Gate.”

Bartholomew paled. “She…she said that? The Gate…its real?”

“Or so She claims.”

The Captain’s whisper barely rose above the sound of lapping water. “…So its true…Hook really did find what he was looking for…”

He seemed to pull himself out of the trance, and fixed Jack with a look he didn’t particularly care for. “Speak of this to no one, Jack. Not until we reach Shipwreck Cove. This is something only the Pirate Lords are to be told; if there are actually any waiting for us when we arrive. Now, I think it best if you hand over that Compass. Just until we get to the…Gate.”

Jack had barely held out the object before Bartholomew had snatched it from his hands and stuffed in into his coat pocket. Jack was thrown off-kilter by the action, until he realized what the Captain had seen emerging from the hut behind them: Barbossa, his own dealings with the witch now over. Jack thought he caught the barest flash of red, as if from a reflecting jewel, as Barbossa placed what appeared to be a leather-bound volume between his vest and shirt. Whatever it was, Jack hoped it wouldn’t be nearly as much trouble as he suspected his Compass was about to be.

As their boats drifted down the river, Jack decided that no, that wasn’t very likely at all.

* * *

_Some time, one battle, and an opening of the Devil’s Gate later…_

Jack stood on the shattered deck of the _Wicked Wench._ He should have known. Everyone knew that witches could see the future; it was the only explanation for why She’d given him what She had. And taken as well.

Bartholomew, in the last few moments of his life, had claimed him as his son. And mere seconds later, Jack had a new name, one born from his taunting and daring: Sparrow. One that belonged to Tia Dalma.

Barbossa wasn’t much better off. He had wanted his own ship, his own crew to command. And he had gotten it. For all of half-a-minute. Captain Morgan had been killed, and done the same as Bartholomew had to Jack, naming him his successor as Pirate Lord and leaving him in command of his ship. Only for that ship to subsequently be sunk by the pounding cannonade of the _Silent Mary._ Even now Jack could see the burning rage within the man at getting exactly what he wished for, but not in the way he wanted.

Not that it was his problem anymore. As a manner of thanks to the ragtag group that had finally ridden this part of the seas from the Spanish, the British Navy and the East India Trading Company had offered pardons and commissions as privateers to all the surviving pirates. Commissions Jack intended to take full advantage of if he were to pay for the damage done to the _Wicked Wench._ It would gall, to be sure, to sail under the flag of the EITC. But it was necessary. It had to be done.

There was no other way.

Jack told himself that about a great many things that happened that day. And for a very long time to come.


End file.
